Assassin's Game
by abyssed
Summary: Riku Replica is drawn into a dark, dark game in which he learns a Chess Master is more than willing to kill his own Queen. Marluxia/Zexion.


**Title:** The Assassin's Game** / Fandom:** Kingdom Hearts** / Characters:** Replica, Marluxia, Zexion** / Pairings:** Non-con Marluxia/Zexion

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><p>"Wake up, puppet ... Wake up."<p>

The voice was soothing, slipping through the gloom and gently caressing his senses, enticing him out of his deep sleep and into a world that was darker than the places his nightmares could ever lead him. The Replica groaned, eyes clenched shut, struggling in vain to remain in that soft cocoon of blessed unconsciousness. As long as he stayed within himself, nobody could hurt him. Nobody could—

A viscous kick to his side, a half amused sigh and then again the voice floated over him, urging him to come out and play. "How rude, to remain asleep when I have a deeply gratifying surprise for you."

Replica opened his eyes, apprehension mingling with morbid interest. A surprise? From _Marluxia?_ Even if the Nobody was feeling generous, chances are that nothing good could have ever come out if. Replica moved slowly, struggling to get his body in a somewhat sitting position and rubbing his right arm to dispel the stiffness. How long had he been lying on that cold dungeon floor anyway? He doubted his body would move another inch, much less jump up and fight if any sudden attacks were to come his way. Fortunately for him though, the pink haired Nobody was in a playful mood rather than his annihilate all that breathes one.

"You certainly took your time." Marluxia chastised, aiming another kick at Replica, this time catching him square in the stomach. "I only have until daybreak and Zexion waits."

Replica groaned, glaring irritably up the the Graceful Assassin. Just what did he mean by—? And it was then that Replica was able to make out the shape of the human form that lay in a crumpled heap across the dungeon. Zexion. What had happened to the other Nobody? Replica squinted in the dimness, sharp eyes searching for any signs of wounds or blood but Marluxia continued to loom before him, blocking out the little light of the various candles that were placed half-hazardly around the small room.

"Ready?" Marluxia threw back over his shoulder as he stalked to where the other Nobody lay. He carefully moved few of the candles so that the soft orange glow fell upon Zexion, illuminating every little thing that graced his body. Every little -

Replica heard himself gasp at the sight. It was hard not to scream. The usual calm and cool Cloaked Schemer lay in a tangled mess on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Thorns. Rose thorns pieced every inch of bare skin, his cloak lay torn and and shredded as though a wild animal had been at work. Multiples bruises, black, blue and angry. Carved on his chest was the Roman Numeral, XI. Marluxia's number within the Organization. Marluxia had marked him. The wound looked fresh, the blood oozing out and sliding down towards his stomach and beyond. The strokes of the lines were careful, precise, artistic. Strangely enough, Zexion's face was untouched. Replica felt the howl of rage rise within him, forcing it's way out of his mouth and into the heavy air of the enclosed space.

"You sick bastard!"

True, Zexion was one of them. One of the bad guys who were keeping himself and Namine here. Who were sitting back and watching in glee as Marluxia toyed with Sora. Replica didn't trust Zexion, didn't like him, didn't care either way if he lived or died. But there were ways to do things and what Marluxia had done — what he _was_ doing — Replica didn't agree with. If the Graceful Assassin wanted to kill Zexion for whatever reason, then as far as Replica was concerned, he should just do it without the unnecessary torture and humiliation.

"Come now. No need for such obscenities." Marluxia's grin was feral, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. He knelt down to Zexion, fingers absently trailing across the fallen Nobody's side as he softly kissed the broken man's lips. Without warning a sharp blade replaced those fingers, tearing through the sensitive flesh. Marluxia placed his lips against Zexion's, swallowing every cry and whimper that emitted from the Cloaked Schemer's throat. The blade traveled from just under his arm all the way down to his hip, agonizingly slowly. Marluxia reveled in the way crimson spilt over his fingers. Beautiful, deadly and so very, very warm.

"This is what comforts me." Marluxia purred against his prey's lips, his free hand moving forward to pet Zexion's hair almost lovingly. "Even though my actions chill me to the bone, the warmth of your blood delights me every single time. It makes me want to turn you inside out and hold you until you're left gasping for both my love and your death."

Replica was left stunned by the almost delicate touches, the soft words, that soothing charm. It would have been rather beautiful if the words and actions hadn't been perverted beyond all reason and reality. Marluxia, it seemed, lived in his own dream. Somewhere where he genuinely believed his gruesome actions were loving and tender. And it also appeared as if nobody had bothered to tell him otherwise. Even if Nobodies could have loved another, there was very little chance that what Marluxia was experiencing was love. It was something more darker, a need to dominate and desolate fueled by lust and cruelty. A cruelty that featured regularly in Marluxia's over-romanticized dreams and visions of his perfect love - where he was either saving or destroying the object of his affections.

Zexion whimpered in Marluxia's arms, shaking violently. The Graceful Assassin cooed softly to him before lifting him up and propping him on a makeshift stand, so Zexion was displayed vertically across the wall, held up by strong, unforgiving chains. His bleeding wounds, rose thorn pieced skin and bruises making him look like a ghastly Christmas decoration. Though something far from the merry things displayed around that Christmas Town which Axel had once talked about. Zexion remained still, barely breathing. Marluxia gazed up adoringly, moving a hand to cup the side of Zexion's face gently, lovingly. A few precious calm moments before the monster within leaped forward and devoured him whole.

"And so it begins." The Graceful Assassin's voice was resolute. Both Zexion and Replica had just moments to wonder what that could mean before Zexion was rammed into, causing him to howl and writhe fruitlessly against his restraints. Replica bit back his own scream, panic and terror pining him to the spot where he sat, chained and defenseless.

Never had he witnessed such an grotesque act. Replica closed his eyes tightly, moving his hands to his ears to block out that heart wrenching, pitiful sound of Zexion screaming into the darkness. It was futile. Who would come to rescue him? Who was strong enough, brave enough, insane enough to go up against Marluxia? Sure, Axel liked to dish out sarcasm and threats by the barrel-full, Larxene liked to take out her kunai at virtually every opportunity Vexen, Xigbar, Lexeaus liked to think of themselves as the toughest members...but when it came down to it, not one of them would be able to stand in Marluxia's way and live to tell the tale. There was no one who would be able to save Zexion. If Marluxia desired his death, then so shall it be.

"Open your eyes." The words were hissed out.

Replica ignored him. He could not,_ would_ not look.

"Open your eyes." Marluxia didn't need to raise his voice for he possessed a quiet, almost calm fury. It was when his voice was quiet like this was when he was known to be the most dangerous. "Would you like me to bring Namine here?"

Replica's eyes shot open and he stared at Marluxia, a mixture of horror and disgust on his face. Trust Marluxia to use a dirty trick like that. And Replica knew the Graceful Assassin would keep true to his word. Marluxia was despicable and hellbent on causing unnecessary destruction for his own sick pleasure. There was nothing Marluxia wouldn't do. Replica couldn't have Namine here. He could barely sit there and watch himself without screaming or going insane. He couldn't let Namine witness such a thing. He'd never forgive himself if Namine was put through the same torture due to his own weakness.

And so, Replica was forced to play the Assassin's game.

The next few hours were the longest, most darkest he'd ever experienced in his short life. He had no choice but to keep watching, eyes wide as Marluxia defiled and mutilated Zexion, shattering him, bringing him down piece by piece until all there was left was a broken, sobbing creature stripped away completely of his dignity and sanity, Marluxia himself, looming over what could only be his as wide, frightened eyes watched him from a corner in the gloom. Not only was Marluxia the Lord of Castle Oblivion, he was the Lord of both Zexion and Replica and their respective fates, the one to decide who shall live and who shall perish.

"Don't you worry, my little schemer." Marluxia moved his face closer to Zexion's, lips moving softly against the other's bruised and swollen ones. "I wouldn't dream of killing you. Be good for me and I shall see to it that you get the healing you require."

The Graceful Assassin left at dawn with barely a glance at either of them. Replica let out a soft sigh, it seemed as though he'd been holding his breath for hours. As soon as the heavy door to the basement had slammed shut, his gaze quickly shot over to the torn and broken Nobody that now lay on the floor after having been yanked down once more. Zexion was motionless, though he was still alive. Replica could hear the faint, ragged breathing if he strained his ears hard enough. A feeling of relief swept through him, surprising him. Why should he care whether or not Zexion lived or died? Replica called out softly, hardly daring to raise his voice. Zexion didn't respond. They stayed still in the gloom, both facing their own horrors and demons in their mind — unsurprisingly enough, the monster that haunted both their thoughts had clawed Marluxia's face onto itself. Or was it really Marluxia that was wearing the monster's skin? Replica cringed, willing himself to think about something else, anything else. The time passed slowly, Replica tried to formulate some type of plan but soon came to the realization that like Zexion, he was powerless. Even if he wasn't chained to the wall, there wasn't much he could do.

When the hour of midnight approached, footsteps were heard once more. Soft and purposeful. The door opened, Marluxia stepped inside. Zexion shivered, Replica tensed and the air inside the dungeon grew more oppressive. The Graceful Assassin glided over to where Zexion sat, slumped against the wall. Gloved fingers caressed the Nobody's face before Marluxia leaned forward for another taste. Replica shrank back into the darkness hoping to just disappear. He didn't think he could survive another night of watching Marluxia give Zexion the same treatment. He was faintly surprised when Marluxia moved away from his ravaged prey and instead crept closer to him. The Graceful Assassin regarded him for a few moments, his smirk threatening to rip his face apart in manic glee. Soon words were uttered which made Replica want to whimper, scream and claw his way out of that dungeon with his bare hands.

"—Your turn."

_Finish_


End file.
